


echoes, calling

by cosmichawkeye



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Prudence Night Deserves Better, Prudence and Ambrose's Excellent Adventure, purple prose and a lack of dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmichawkeye/pseuds/cosmichawkeye
Summary: after leaving greendale, before new orleans. prudence waits for blood.
Relationships: Prudence Night/Ambrose Spellman
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	echoes, calling

Once, a long time ago, she and her sisters had snuck out into the graveyard on a moonless night – white and black silk on wet dark grass, quiet giggles turning louder as the gin in their stolen bottle disappeared.

When she tried, and failed, to sleep those long nights on the hunt she thought of them, young and together among the tombstones.

Ambrose was… She missed her sisters. Echoes of their dreams and thoughts sifted through her mind, fog through the bare branches on a moonless night.

She wanted her siblings.

She wanted, more than she had ever wanted to be his daughter, to kill Father Blackwood. He had touched her face, given her the Blackwood name; handed her poison and let her kill them.

Blood, wine, gin, nectar. It all pooled between her fingers and dripped morpheus slow to the ground.

Another Judas boy lay dead at her feet, throat slit open in a mocking smile. And another, and another.

His kiss tasted like black tea and sugar. It was early, blue dawn in the mountains. By the end of the day there would be another corpse at her feet.

Half-naked she wrapped her arms around him tried to feel heat while watching the snow coat the window sill.

After they disposed of the body and the snow blotted out the earth, came the scrying.

“New Orleans,” murmured Ambrose, “Haven’t been there in a few decades.”

Something sang in her bones. Called to her blood.

Ambrose’s hand rested iron-hot on her bare shoulder, drifting further and further down.

In bed, she dreamt of gin and grave grass, blood in the snow. Tea and sugar.

A second of wakefulness, as his body shifted next to hers. Falling, her eyes fluttered shut, laughter echoing.


End file.
